Race To Midnight
by Lafayette1777
Summary: Hermione races to be home on her and Ron's anniversary.


Race to Midnight

The flight from New York to London was packed, but Hermione didn't care. It was a large plane, probably a Boeing 777, so her first class seat was lavish. It surprised her everytime how she could afford things like this. Her first novel had taken off, made more money than she could possibly imagine. Like most starting authors, she'd tried not to get her hopes up, the writing game depended so much on luck. She was only 22 when it first got big, and now, two years later, she had been on almost seven book signing tours and talk show appearances, one of which she was returning from. She was famous, not just in the wizarding world, but in the muggle world, too. She felt accomplished, just like she had at the end of the battle of Hogwarts, except then any happiness had been tainted by grief. Now, she just felt good.

She fiddled with her seat belt, waiting impatiently for the 8 hour flight to begin. Her ADHD was already kicking in, but it was minor and she had managed worse. According to the flight crew, the runway at JFK was particularly busy on this Friday afternoon, and they may have to wait up to half an hour. She could wait, though, if it was necessary. She had factored in delays, so this slight impediment would not be a problem. She would be home for her anniversary. She had promised that.

The guy in the large seat next to her was focused on his iPad, he looked like the business type. Slick black hair, clean black suit and light blue tie. He knew how to travel efficiently, he probably did it often. Airplanes were his second home.

Hermione, unfortunately, was not experienced in planes by the farthest stretch of the imagination. She had been on one maybe twice, so her publicity advisers had given a crash course in flying in the muggle world. They had dressed her in an elegant black skirt, blue button up blouse and a blazer, along with two inch heels. Her hair was neatly done and they let her wear her owl necklace, which, since she would be flying, she'd insisted upon wearing. Being the prepared type, she'd made it through the airport without any hiccups, things were coming naturally to her. With luck, nothing would go wrong, she'd get home easily.

Naturally, her luck had been shot to hell long before she boarded the plane.

20 minutes had been spent sitting on the tarmac when the intercom voice came on, the bearer of bad news. Judging by the flight attendant's voice, she was just as pissed about the news as all the passengers were.

"I'm sorry to inform you that flight 3150 with service to London has been cancelled due to air traffic and bad weather in the London area. We ask that you all remain patient while rebook your flight." There was a collective groan from the crowd as the plane moved back toward the terminal.

_Shit._ Hermione thought._ This is not what I planned._

They walked single file off the plane like prisoners. Once she was back at the gate, Hermione was immediately surrounded by airport officials, hired to hold back the crowds trying to get autographs of one of the most famous authors of this century. Not to mention the fact that she was young and considered beautiful. She had been on the cover of numerous magazines, she was the first _author _to get as much publicity as a movie star. She was hustled by the guards past the crowd and into the private lobby for first class customers. On the plane, all of the passengers in her part of the cabin had been asked to treat her like any other person.

The person leading her group of bodyguards turned to her once she had settled herself into a recliner.

"Okay, so this is what we're gonna do. We're gonna get you on the next flight to London, even if it may not be at this airport, with luck you'll be on your way in the next few hours. We'll do the best we can, ." The woman, probably about forty, smiled at her. She had a slight southern accent and dirty blond hair. She wore an airport uniform.

"Thank you very much." Hermione replied giving her a small smile. Her troop of bodyguards tromped off, leaving her alone in the sparsely decorated room. She laid back against the leather chair she had sat down on and closed her eyes, letting out a breath. This turn of events was not promising, but atleast she had people looking out for her. She didn't have to call and give him the bad news yet.

Before she realized it, she had faded into sleep.

What she guessed was about an hour later, she was awoken by the blonde woman gently. She looked grim.

"I'm sorry, but there's no flights leaving from anywhere near here until early tomorrow morning. You'll have to wait till then." Her eyes were apologetic.

Hermione nodded solemnly. "Thank you for trying." The body guards once again left her to her own devices.

She couldn't avoid it now.

She dug around in her purse and pulled out the smart phone she could now afford, looking through the contacts and finding the one labeled _Ron Weasley._ She tapped it with her thumb and held it to her ear, sucking in a deep breath as it rang.

"Hello?" At his voice, she froze. "Hello?"

She recovered quickly, though. "Hey Ron."

"Oh, hullo Hermione. Is everything okay?"

"Well, um, no... not really. My flight got cancelled so I won't be flying out until morning."

Silence.

"Ron?"

"Uh, okay. Are you still gonna be back in time for us to spend atleast some time together on our anniversary?" he asked hesitantly.

"Oh yeah, I'll be back by tomorrow afternoon. Plenty of time, don't worry. I'll be there. Definitely." She knew she was reassuring her self as much as him.

"Okay, safe travels. I love you."

"Love you too." She hung up.

The airline put her up in the airport hotel for the night. Her flight was at eleven am the next morning, and so she crashed on the queen bed as soon as she got into her pajamas and tried to ignore the fact that there were two massive bodyguards on the other side of her hotel door. Morning came quicker than Hermione expected, which she was glad for. The quicker she could get home to Ron, the better.

She was escorted from her room at 9:30 am and into a cab to the airport. All she had with her was her beaded bag which, when x-rayed, would look like a regular purse with only a wallet, cellphone and a pair of sunglasses.

She went through security and was taken to her gate, where bodyguards surrounded her. She felt exceptionally self conscious. But once again, things did not go as planned. An hour later, the gate attendant spoke into the intercom, with an accent Hermione didn't recognize.

"Due to continual severe weather in the London area, flight 3150 has been delayed at least four hours. We are sorry for the inconvenience, and hope to be in the air soon." Hermione let out a sigh gave a long blink in frustration. She'd have to deliver more bad news. The bodyguards turned to her and told her the same thing they told her yesterday, they'd do their best to get her out of here quickly. Half an hour later, the news was just as grim; she'd have to wait out the four hours.

And she did.

Three hours and forty minutes later, her gate was almost empty, and her bodyguards had spread out casually, no more need to guard her. She had been working on her second novel most of the time so the waiting wasn't too bad. What was bothering her was that she just missed Ron, and wanted to be back with him like she promised she would. She had called him and told him that she'd be back by midnight, that atleast she would get there on their anniversary and they could properly celebrate tomorrow. She could hear the disappointment in his voice at yet another delay.

At ten minutes till three o'clock, almost four hours after their original departure time, the intercom once again buzzed to life.

"We would like to inform you that the gate for flight 3150 to London has changed to F30. The departure time is now 3 o'clock."

Hermione looked at her watch, she had ten minutes. At the moment she was at gate A3. F30 was in the other terminal, she'd have to take the tram. She was fully aware that her odds of making this flight were low. She grabbed her things and sprang up, searching for her bodyguards. They were no where to be seen, she couldn't help but think that was suspicious. She though that if she sprinted the whole way, people wouldn't recognize her and she could make it unnoticed. _If_ she made it, that is. There was no time to lose. She slipped out of her heels and broke into a sprint, there was no fucking way she was gonna miss this flight. She clutched her bag to her chest and bolted barefoot through the airport, to the confusion of the other passengers. Luckily, she was reasonably in shape, so she could run for a while, though she was winded and sweaty when she boarded the tram a few minutes later. She held on to the poles as they whizzed past the terminals, willing the train to go faster. The doors opened at terminal F and she elbowed her way to the front of the off boarding crowd, running again. F30 was the farthest gate from the tram.

The terminal was crowded of course, adding to the desperateness of things. She pushed through the crowd, much to the frustration of the other passengers. The gates passed, and so did the time. She reached F20 and a minute and a half to go. She ran like hell, she hadn't had the need to run like this in a while, thankfully. The last minute closed in and she passed F25. If she lost it now, it would be too much. She had a distant thought, momentarily distracted, and wondered if the bodyguards knew she had taken off. She decided now was not the time to care and kept running. F29 came and went and with it the last 10 seconds. F30 was the last gate in the terminal, the dead end. She saw the flight attendant closing the door from ten feet away and she lunged, as far as she could. Some divine force landed her at the exact spot where she could easily block the door.

"Sorry, here's my boarding pass." Hermione handed the slip of paper to the attendant and slipped through the doorway soundlessly.

She had made it, somehow.

And she still couldn't believe it as she hurried down the jet way, barefoot, hugging her bag.

Seven hours later, the plane hit the asphalt with a jolt. Hermione had slept for most of it, trying to relieve herself of the worries regarding how she would manage to get home before midnight. She still didn't have any shoes, and the bodyguards were know where to be seen. She liked it better that way, not necessarily that shoeless part nor the crowds of admirers, but she didn't need seven large bodyguards to keep herself safe. She was a fucking wizard, she could deal with muggle fans.

She hurried off the plane, the total flight time had been more like eight and a half hours so she had even less time than she had anticipated. The time was 11:37 as she skipped baggage claim went through customs. Practically pacing as the tired looking airport security man stamped her passport at a infuriatingly slow pace.

Finally, she managed to scurry out the sliding doors of Gatwick Airport outside of London, and wave down a cab. The ancient driver put out his cigarette and opened the backseat door for her. She climbed in, and he walked around the front of the car at inching, waddling pace. Hermione squirmed as he got back into the driver's seat.

"Where you going?" he asked in a scratchy, tobacco withered voice.

"31 Audacity street, downtown London." She replied breathlessly. "And get me there as fast as you possibly can."

"That's a bit of a drive. Can you pay?"

"Yep." For proof, she showed him the edges of several hundred dollar bills from her purse.

"Okay then." He put the car in gear then edged out of the line taxis working the airport circuit and onto the open road.

The drove in silence, midnight growing ever closer. She desperately hoped that she could keep her promise. The darkness was consuming, but soon the roads were lit by London streetlights and she could see late night partiers coming in and out of bars, looking more and more drunk as they neared the center of London.

At 11:58, she arrived outside their odd apartment complex. It was situated between two skyscrapers, but it was a little, three story house, where each level was a little apartment. It was unseen by muggle eyes, if _they_ saw it would look like a narrow little deserted alley, fenced off with scrubby weeds growing between the cracks in the pavement. To wizards, it was a narrow three story brick house with ivy growing up the side crammed between two giant buildings with no space left between. She and Ron's apartment was small, but sunny and and had a window seat facing the street. The kitchen was towards the back, and in the morning the sun would slant in beautifully, filling the crowded room with light. Their furniture was old and worn, they hadn't bothered to upgrade when she had become a millionaire.

She threw some bills at the cab driver and threw open the door, before the car had completely stopped. She dashed to the door of the house and up the stairs, past the doors to each apartment. The stairs were as narrow as the whole house, and painted blue, clashing with the toothpaste green walls. It stairs were a common space, the first part of the house that a visitor steps into. The walls were scraped and peeling, the wood of the steps sagging. There was a faded gold colored metal number, each apartment getting it's own staircase landing. Hermione loved it though, it felt so perfect.

Her feet thudded against the wood as she scrambled up, to the third floor. She vaguely hoped that she wouldn't wake up the newborn baby on the second floor, or the twenty something couple on the first. Her feet hit the third landing hard, she stumbled slightly and then straightened up. She threw open the door with a click glance at her watch.

11:59.

The door hit the inside wall with a bang, causing the two men in her living room to look up from their conversation. Realizing it wasn't an enemy, they both grinned at her.

"You made it." Ron gave her a lopsided grin. "For a moment I thought you wouldn't."

Hermione rolled her eyes. "No faith." She muttered playfully. She then regarded the black haired man in the seat across from Ron. "What are you doing here?"

"Just hanging out." Harry replied with a laid back smile.

"Where's your _wife_?" She asked.

"Out with Fleur."

"Ahh."

Ron rose from his chair and embraced her. She breathed in his scent as he hugged her and closed her eyes. "I'm glad you're back." he whispered into her ear.

"Well, I better get going. Let you two get down to business. Happy Anniversary." Harry eased himself out of his chair, still limping slightly from the his recently healed broken leg. He had been on an auror mission that hadn't gone exactly as planned. Luckily it was successful, in the end.

"Bye Harry." She said as he opened the door to leave. Harry waved over his shoulder in response.

Hermione turned back to Ron and smiled mischievously. He slid his arms around her waist. The clock in the kitchen read 12:01.

"Damn." She muttered, still smiling. "Too late."

"I don't think it matters to much. I'm sure somewhere it's still our anniversary." Ron replied.

"I guess we'll have to take advantage of that." Was her answer.

"Hell, yes."


End file.
